


Survivor

by abcdefuk_off



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Brothers, Family, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt and comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Nightmares, Not to worry, heavy on the hurt, it stings a little but there is some comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22126906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abcdefuk_off/pseuds/abcdefuk_off
Summary: Clay wasn't surprised when Justin declared that he was a survivor, he had told him as much - one night when the horrors of his past wouldn't leave the broken boy be.
Relationships: Justin Foley & Clay Jensen
Comments: 9
Kudos: 225





	1. Chapter 1

Justin’s transition into becoming part of the Jensen family was rocky at best. 

Clay, of course, took on his part of the blame – after all he had dragged the kid there and essentially forced him to stay, and then he got pissy for various reasons and kind of left Justin to fend for himself. Well, not entirely himself, his parents certainly tried to be there for the troubled child, but they had a difficult time figuring out how to do that and Justin had an even more difficult time allowing them to try. 

Things were different now though, Clay was involved – had been for awhile, and he was looking out properly for the younger boy, helping him to navigate family life and all that it entailed. 

It had been a struggle at first, trying to show Justin that one wrong move wasn’t going to get him sent out on his ass, that he didn’t have to ask for permission to take food from the fridge or tiptoe around trying not to be heard. It took Clay forever to teach his friend that if he needed something he could just fucking ask for it, he didn’t have to go without or figure out how to get it on his own – actually, he was still working on getting that particular lesson through Justin’s thick head.

It didn’t take Justin long at all to be at ease around Clay – but it was different with his parents. It took some time for the younger teen to truly be comfortable around Mrs. Jensen, he put on a good act at first, but it was awhile before Clay noticed the façade fall away and Justin really being himself around her. It wasn’t a surprise with Justin’s history with mothers that he would be on edge around them and not trust them – and while he was making progress, Clay could tell that his friend didn’t really trust everything Lainie said, especially when she promised him he was safe and that he had a home with them. But Clay could tell that the kid was trying and that he had warmed up to his mom. 

His dad was an entirely different story. Justin had put up a front around Lainie at first, being overly polite and pasting on a fake smile, but he had mostly avoided Matt. He got along with him well enough, but could never be found alone in a room with him. Clay had met Seth and if that was the brand of asshole that his mom kept around, the older boy wasn’t surprised in the least that Justin was uncomfortable around men. His dad understood it as well and tried his best to give the new addition to their little family his space. But as time went on Justin had started to warm up to Clay’s father, had stopped flinching back when the man got too close and stopped going out of his way to avoid ever being alone in a room with him. He had even started speaking to Matt without being spoken to first, instigating conversations. But it was a process – a lengthy one at that. After all, when someone has been abused by just about every fucking adult in their life it only made sense that it would take quite a bit of time to trust. Clay had seen how understanding his parents had been of that fact and had watched them try and dance along the fine line of being both cautious and firm with their new son. Clay knew that part of the reason the two teens had been built their own little wing of the house, was because everyone knew that Justin was his most comfortable in Clay’s room and the Jensen family wanted to give the boy some extra space where he could feel safe and be himself. 

Overall, Justin had been adjusting, and Clay had thought the younger teen was just about settled, until one night when he realized just how much further there was to go and just how much the small family was up against – just how many battles Justin was trying to fight.

Clay had been exhausted – he was always exhausted, but being the suspect in a murder investigation took a lot more out of you than one would think. Needless to say, his sleep was heavy and blessedly dreamless, which was probably why it took him longer than normal to wake.

Clay roused slowly to the whisper of stuttered breathing and distressed whimpers, before he even opened his eyes he knew what was going on. It hadn’t taken the teen long to learn the sound of Justin being tormented by a nightmare. Another noise filtered through the dark, and Clay quickly recognized it to be his father’s quiet voice. 

“Justin, son, wake up.” 

Clay cracked his eyes open, looking over at the bed next to his, frowning at the sight of his best friend – soon to be brother – tangled up in his sheets, digging his face into his pillow as if he could hide inside of it. 

“Easy, kiddo. C’mon, wake up.” 

Clay’s bleary gaze wandered up to his Dad’s familiar form and after a couple blinks he was able to see the older man’s expression was twisted in concern as his large hands hovered over the trembling teen. 

“Dad?” Clay rasped, pushing to sit up in his bed. 

His father glanced over quickly before turning back towards Justin. “How do you – he’s having a bad dream, how do you usually wake him up?” He asked, the question making it clear that he knew the youngest member of the Jensen family was no stranger to nightmares – he had likely heard a few of them echo through the walls of the house back when the boys had slept across the hall from their parents. 

“I usually just toss something at him, or shake ‘im. If he’s in too deep he doesn’t usually hear shit.” Clay announced, his heart clenching as something sounding far too much like a sob came from the younger teen. 

His dad nodded, looking worried and a bit unsure. “Wake up, Justin.” He prompted, his voice still low and soft, the way it always was, as he reached out and grasped one of those skinny arms. The moment his hand made contact with the sleeping teenager, Justin’s entire body spasmed.

“No!” He cried out, his other arm coming up, his hand flying towards the older man’s face. 

Clay wasn’t certain what happened until he heard the sound of skin connecting with skin and watched as his father’s head snapped back. Matt abruptly released his hold on Justin as he stumbled back a couple steps. At the sight of the aggressive interaction, Clay was instantly awake and alert, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. 

“No, please don’t. Please no more. Please. No, no, no.” Justin continued to repeat that simple word – the two letters sounding so desperate, like he was begging – as he scrambled back on the bed, curling himself into the furthest corner, his hands shaking as he stretched them out defensively in front of him. 

“Justin. It’s okay. You’re safe, son, you’re safe.” Clay’s dad stated, one hand over the nose that was trickling blood as he moved back towards the bed. 

But Justin didn’t seem to hear properly, or know what was going on – likely still trapped in the darkness of his night terror, because his only response to the approach was to plead louder and press himself impossibly closer to the wall. 

“Fuck.” Clay spat as he jumped out of bed, pushing himself between his father and his friend.

“Clay-

“Get the fuck away from him, Dad.” He ordered. 

“I was just—

“Just back the hell off!” Clay growled, he knew his dad was just trying to help, he knew how harmless the older man was, but Justin was scared and he was hurting and the new instinct that had appeared in Clay -- which he had secretly entitled his ‘big brother sense’ -- was telling him he needed to make the younger teen feel safe before dealing with anything else.

And right now, safe meant away from the man that Justin was currently misconstruing as a threat.

The protective teenager was beyond grateful when his dad willingly backed up a couple more steps and stopped reaching for the distressed boy. 

Clay turned his attention to the teen curled up and shaking in the corner of the bed. 

“Hey! Justin, relax – bro. It’s me.” He narrated as he climbed up onto the bed, relieved when his friend didn’t pull away – and irritated as fuck at how small Justin was able to make himself, those giant doe-eyes staring up at him and making his soul hurt. The little bastard used to be a threat, he used to be intimidating and abrasive, it was ridiculous that he could ever look so damn small and helpless. 

Clay kept his hands out in a position of surrender, even as he moved closer, his knees touching the skinny legs twisted in the covers – the minimal contact more than enough to feel how aggressively Justin’s thin frame was shaking. 

“It’s just me, just Clay. I’m going to try and get you untangled from this shit so that you can move if you need to. Okay? I might touch you, so don’t fucking punch me, Jay.” Clay muttered as he reached forward and tugged the blanket from beneath that skinny ass and slowly worked to unwind it from around the younger teen. 

“Clay?” Justin rasped, the tips of his fingers brushing against the older boy’s collarbone. 

And fucking hell if the jackass didn’t look at him with those big blue eyes, bright with terror, his voice trembling slightly as he cocked his head to the side. 

“Yeah, Justin. It’s me.” He responded, biting back the sarcastic remark that had been dancing on the tip of his tongue, deciding to keep things simple for the kid who was obviously having a hard enough time putting two and two together. 

“Clay, what happened to…” Justin faded off, his eyebrows furrowing as he was working to get all his dumb little ducks in a row.

Clay had mostly untangled the distressed teenager from the mess he had made with his blankets, when the slim body suddenly went ridged and Justin’s eyes widened in shock, his head shooting up as he seemed to finally realize there was a world over Clay’s shoulder. 

“Matt?” He croaked, Clay’s own anxiety rising in response to the dread flooding his friend’s voice. 

“Right here, Justin.” The older man responded promptly, taking a small step closer to the two boys on the bed.

“Fuck. Fuck! I’m so sorry. Ma- Mr. Jensen, shit, I’m so sorry.” Justin exclaimed, hands fisting his hair and rubbing roughly over his face as he slammed the back of his head into the wall. 

“Hey!” Clay snapped, his hand moving up to rest against the back of the teen’s head – he wouldn’t be surprised if there was a dent in the damn drywall from how violently Justin smacked his noggin against it. 

“I’m sorry. Fuck. I’m so sorry.” He repeated, each apology escalating in desperation as he pulled his knees into his chest (now that his legs were free and he was able to do so) and wrapped his arms around them, his hands shaking so intensely that Clay had a difficult time looking away from them. 

“Justin, kiddo, it’s alright. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Matt assured.

But the young teen was already shaking his head back and forth. 

“Fuck!” He rasped, burying his face in his hands and curling up impossibly smaller. “M’sorry.” He mumbled into his fingers. 

Clay glanced over his shoulder, frowning at the destroyed expression on his father’s face, he didn’t think he’d ever seen the brilliant man look so lost before. 

“Just give us a minute, Dad.” He stated, it wasn’t really a request, but he waited to see the older man nod and slowly retreat from their space, tossing a concerned look to both of the boys on the bed before he opened and closed the front door. 

Clay sucked in a deep breath, glancing around the dark room before reaching over to flick the lamp on, satisfied with the dim light that filtered through the room. He returned his attention to the trembling teen. 

“Hey, stop freaking out, okay? It’s not a big deal.” Clay said, tapping at the boney shin. 

Justin released a humourless chuckle as he dropped his hands from his face. “Ha, no big deal, right, Clay? I just punched your dad in the fucking face.” He choked out. 

“Yeah, I saw.” Clay deadpanned. “But it wasn’t like it was on purpose, I mean – shit, Justin -- you didn’t even know it was him.” 

Justin just shook his head, before he began climbing out of his bed, his movements clumsy but rushed. “I need to go.” 

The short phrase sent fear ricocheting inside Clay’s chest, because how many damn times had he had that fucking nightmare? The one where he woke up and Justin was gone, where he watched that dumbass disappear with that worn-out duffle in his hands. How many mornings had he woken up only to look over and be filled with terror anytime Justin wasn’t asleep in the bed next to his? How many times had he tried to search his way through that complicated little shit’s head to make sure that he didn’t want to run? How many times had he asked that bastard to stay? 

Clary jumped off the mattress, grabbing that damn duffle from Justin’s trembling fingers, and chucking it to the ground. “You’re not going anywhere.” He declared through clenched teeth. 

Justin’s eyes grew, but he didn’t shy away, nor did he attempt to get his hands back on the bag that had been tossed aside. “I need to leave before they call.” 

“Call who?” 

“C.A.S, the police – I can’t go back.” 

“Can’t go back where?” Clay asked, increasingly irritated with the feeling that he was missing out on some significant information. 

Justin shrugged. “Back into the system, or back to juvie – either. I can’t do it. So I need to go, I need to run.” He insisted. 

It was Clay’s turn to shake his head. “My dad isn’t going to call _anyone_ and my parents are **not** going to send you away.” 

“You’d don’t know that.” Justin claimed, his head moving back and forth as his entire body continued to shake – the teen was a live-wire, his mannerisms very similar to the ones he exhibited when he was detoxing, but altered enough for Clay to be able to spot the differences. He was practically a fucking professional by now. 

“I wouldn’t let them. Besides, you didn’t see my dad’s face when he walked out of here. He wasn’t pissed off or irritated – he was just concerned.” 

“Yeah, for you. Probably worried about leaving you alone with me.” 

Clay rolled his eyes, if the younger boy hadn’t looked so damn pitiful, he would have smacked him so hard upside the head for saying shit like that. “You don’t get it, dude. They are going to _adopt_ you! To make you an official _permanent_ member of the family – that’s how they see you.” 

Justin looked so damn lost, it made Clay’s chest ache.

“I know this whole family-thing is kind of new to you.” He stated softly. 

Justin’s gaze darted up from where it had been focussed on the floor to stare at the older teen, he looked both unsure and hopeful. 

“But family means that you don’t chuck people away. They aren’t going to toss you out, they didn’t do it any time you fucked up or when you relapsed, they aren’t going to do it now.”

If Clay hadn’t been so set on proving the point he was trying to make – he would have rolled his eyes at the full-blown puppy dog look he was receiving. 

“You did _nothing_ wrong, Justin. You didn’t know it was him, my dad knows you would never intentionally hurt him, or my mom, or me.”

The younger teen responded with a derisive snort. 

“You wouldn’t.” Clay shot back with all the confidence in the world. “That’s not who you are. You got that?” 

Justin’s lips were pinched into a thin line, but his bright eyes were watering as he replied with a shaky nod. 

Clay was relieved that he was finally getting through that hard head, but he didn’t feel like he could truly relax until Justin moved back toward his bed, and away from the duffle bag that had been tossed in the other direction. 

He wondered if there would ever come a day where at least part of him wasn’t worried that his little brother was going to pack up and bolt out the fucking door. He hoped eventually he would be able to get that picture of a skinny-assed, dirt-smeared, kid sitting cross-legged on that filthy street corner, out of his fucking head – because bloody hell, was he sick of being haunted by that image. 

Clay internally vowed to burn that damn duffle the first chance he got, as he moved towards the boy who had slid down to sit on the floor leaning back against his bed. Justin had his knees pulled up into his chest as he curled into himself – looking almost as small as he did when Clay and Tony found him sitting on the sidewalk. The older teen heaved a sigh as he slid down next to his friend, sitting close so their shoulders were brushing, but being cautious not to be restrictive or invade Justin’s space. 

“Who did you think it was?” He questioned cautiously after they had been sitting in the dark for some time. 

“What?” Justin croaked, as he stared blankly across the room. 

“You didn’t know it was my dad, obviously. But who did you think it was?” Clay ventured, his tone low and soft because he knew he was drifting into a danger zone – and the last thing he wanted to do was put Justin back on edge and have him running for the door. 

He could sense the slim frame next to him tense, the inquiry obviously causing some distress – which only added to the dread building in Clay’s chest. He knew the fear that had been pumping through Justin’s body had been overwhelming to say the least – and for someone who had been though so much scary shit in their life, it took an awful lot to ignite such an intense level of terror. 

Clay sat quietly, as much as he wanted to know what was going on with his best friend, what was causing him such distress, he wouldn’t push the matter because all that would do was push Justin away. 

And then he would run.

The kid was a perpetual flight risk. 

“Anytime I’ve woken up to someone standing over me it – it was never harmless.” Justin rasped, his chin propped on his knees as his gaze was focussed on the trembling fingers he was distractedly twisting.

“What happened?” Clay asked, not wanting to know the answer, but needing to know – needing to know so that he could be there for the lost boy who would soon be his brother. 

“Which time?” Justin cackled, the sound hollow and broken. 

Clay swallowed, because that really wasn’t a good start. He shrugged, because he didn’t know. The first time? The last? The most painful? He wanted to know it all so that he could _help_ , but he would settle for anything Justin was able to tell him, because he could tell how hard it was for him. He kept his gaze steady on the teen at his side, wanting him to know that the shrug wasn’t dismissive, but simply his way of leaving the ball in Justin’s court or field, or whatever – sports analogies were not Clay’s area of expertise. 

They sat there silently for nearly ten minutes before Justin inhaled a shaky breath, inching just a little closer to the older boy as he spoke with a haunted whisper. 

“The first time I woke up to someone standing over my bed, it was my mom’s shitty boyfriend.” He confessed into the dark room. 

“Seth?” Clay questioned after a long pause. 

Justin released another one of those humourless laughs that sounded a bit like a sob and caused something inside Clay twist viciously. 

“No – I mean he did, once I woke up and he was there, he ripped me out of bed and beat the shit out of me because he was high as fuck and thought I had taken his stash … which I hadn’t, my mom had, but it wasn’t like I could tell him that.” Justin snorted. “And it wasn’t like she copped to it.” He added more quietly.

Clay clenched his jaw, he hated thinking of how much his best friend had suffered because of his lousy excuse for a mom – how many beatings had the younger boy taken to defend the person who was supposed to be protecting him? 

“Honestly, I’d rather have had my ass-kicked then have had to deal with that bastard who crawled into my bed and –” Justin abruptly stopped speaking, Clay able to hear the snap of his teeth with how aggressively he clamped his mouth shut, and able to feel the violent shiver that traveled through the thin frame. 

Clay reached over, keeping his movements slow and visible, watching Justin to make sure he didn’t show any signs of discomfort as he placed his hand on one of those skinny arms, squeezing it gently in silent support. 

Justin seemed to calm a little, his trembling became a bit less aggressive as he sucked in an unsteady breath and began to speak once again. “He’d touch me or touch himself or- or make me touch him. I was a kid – like young, too fucking young to really know what was going on, what he was doing. But I knew it was wrong because it felt so fucking wrong.” Justin explained, his bright gaze glancing over at Clay, who nodded because he felt like the younger teen was searching for someone to believe him. 

And Clay believed him with every bone in his body. 

“Went on for what felt like a long time, too fucking long, before he was finally out of our lives.” Justin said, heaving in another breath. “But he wasn’t the only one who I woke up to find standing over my bed. My mom dated some other winner who used to pull the same shit, and then she had this dealer who used to just watch, he’d come into my room after she got her fix and he wouldn’t touch- well he wouldn’t touch me – but he’d just stand next to my bed and stare down at me.” 

Clay shuddered in time with Justin, wishing with everything that was in him that he had smuggled the younger boy into his bedroom a decade earlier than he had, maybe then he could have saved him from some of the trauma in his fucked-up childhood. 

“Then there’s been times I’ve been on the street, when I’ve had nowhere to go and I’d wake up to someone standing over me yelling at me to get my ass out, or fucking propositioning me. One time I was staying at a shelter and woke up to some son of a bitch trying to climb on top of me, I just barely got away from him and couldn’t bring myself to go back there, which meant I went days without sleep because there was nowhere safe enough to close my eyes that long – that was right before you and Tony found me.” Justin glanced back over at Clay, a glimmer of appreciation shining through the ocean of despair in those bright blue orbs. 

Clay shook his head, he should have found Justin sooner – _years_ sooner. 

“In juvie, I’d get woken up constantly by some asshole standing over me to threaten me or beat me or yell at me…or worse.” Justin said with a shrug, as if that shit was the least of his worries. 

And the real fucking tragedy was that it probably was. 

“It wasn’t always the same situation, but any time I’ve woken up to someone standing over me like that, it’s – it’s never been okay, it’s never been _safe_.” Justin croaked, reaching up to rub a hand over his face. 

Clay gently squeezed the arm that he had yet to release from his grip, desperate to help, to show the younger teen that he wasn’t alone and he never would be again. 

“With everything going on lately…my dreams have been all fucked up, all about shit that’s happened in the past – bad shit. And when I came out of it I -- I still wasn’t like… _here_ , you know?” Justin stuttered out, visibly struggling to explain what had been going in his head. 

Clay nodded in understanding, because, fuck, if didn’t know way too damn much about that. 

“And I just- I saw someone standing next to the bed … leaning over me and I just – I just reacted.” Justin rasped, shame colouring his pale face as stared down at his trembling fingers and the redness of the knuckles on his right hand with something akin to horror written across his expression. 

Clay shifted impossibly closer, hoping to absorb some of the shivers that were causing the slender body next to his to vibrate so aggressively. Justin turned his head to face him, Clay alarmed by the beseeching look in those wide eyes. 

“I swear, Clay, I had no idea it was your dad. I’d never hurt him!” He implored, practically begging the older teen to believe him. 

Clay didn’t have to give it a moment of thought before he responded. “I know, Justin. I know.” He assured, doing his best to convey all the confidence he was feeling. 

It took a moment but eventually Justin nodded his head, relief filtering through his features, but still not able to touch the despair etched across the weary face.

“And my dad does too.” Clay added. 

Justin appeared far less convinced about that statement, biting his bottom lip as he ducked his head down, hiding it into the arms folded atop the pair of boney knees. 

“Did you – have you ever told anyone, about any of that?” Clay questioned softly. 

He watched his friend’s head move back and forth from where it was nestled on his forearms. 

“Not even Bry—” Clay shut his mouth, not wanting to bring up anything that would add to Justin’s distress, like his dead ex-best friend who also happened to be a rapist monster. 

Unfortunately, the older teen had not censored himself soon enough and Justin had no problem understanding what he’d been about to ask. 

“Ha! Right, like I’d tell him that shit. He already thought I was a weak-ass piece of trash.” Justin spat. “I wasn’t about to prove him right.” He added meekly. 

Clay didn’t imagine he could hate Bryce any more than he already did, but in that moment he discovered it was very possible. That asshole was the only person Justin had in his life back then, the only person who he could even begin to rely on; and instead of properly looking out for the kid and truly being there for him, protecting him – he belittled him and manipulated him, treating him like some second-rate minion. He had taken a broken boy and instead of helping him heal, Bryce had just kept pounding at all the shattered pieces until they were molded into what he wanted – into what served him best. Justin had been desperate for a friend, desperate for care and for safety, and though Bryce had been in the perfect position to offer all of that, he chose to use him. 

And wasn’t that just egregious as fuck. 

Clay repositioned himself, moving slowly until he was squatting in front of the younger teen, carefully placing both of his hands on Justin’s arms, rubbing his thumbs gently against the cool skin. He waited for his little brother to look up at him before he spoke. 

“You aren’t weak, Justin.” He stated. 

“I am.” The younger lad rasped, his eyes bright with insistence. “I’m a guy, I should have been able to fight them off. I should have seen it coming – I mean, fuck -- I let it go on for so long and—

“You did not _let_ anything happen. _None_ of that was your choice. You were assaulted and – and abused.” Clay croaked, such violent words having to be forced out through his throat, and leaving his heart aching in their wake. 

Justin’s expression shattered, his eyes bright with pain – he looked so fucking lost. 

“And it wasn’t okay, not any of it. It wasn’t okay and it was **not** your fault. Not for a single fucking second.” Clay declared, his voice rough with emotion, but his words strong with passion.

Justin opened and closed his mouth a time or two, before visibly giving up on any verbal response. 

“You are **not** weak.” The older boy asserted.

Justin’s eyes filled as he gave a helpless shake of his head before burying it back in his arms. 

“Hey.” Clay called, waiting nearly two minutes before his best friend looked up again. “You are not weak. Weak people don’t make it through detox. Weak people don’t work every day to bet _better_. Weak people don’t risk _everything_ – every friendship they’ve ever had, they don’t risk going to juvie – just to do the right thing. Weak people don’t save their idiot big brother’s from doing something stupid with a gun and they don’t stand by that same idiot big brother when he’s accused of a crime he almost committed – even when all the evidence points right at him.” 

Tears were streaming unobstructed down Justin’s pale face as he stared with wide captivated eyes at the older boy. 

Clay moved closer, his legs touching Justin’s as he kept hold of the teen’s forearms and continued to state his case. 

“Weak people don’t turn against everything they’ve ever known, to start a new life. And weak people don’t make it through half the shit that you’ve been through – and they sure as fuck don’t come out the other end as _better_ , kinder, more incredible people.”

Justin looked like he was in shock, as though he couldn’t possibly believe what he was hearing – though Clay hoped with everything in him that Justin would learn to believe every word, because it was all true. 

“You saved my life.” Clay declared, wanting to start with a statement that couldn’t be argued, something that was a straight-up fact. “You are not weak and you are not trash. You are brave as fuck. You’re a _survivor_ , Justin. You hearing me?” 

Justin sat for a moment and Clay could tell the teen’s mind was all over the place, but eventually he responded with a shaky nod.

The younger boy looked equal parts grateful and uncertain. Clay could tell the kid didn’t believe everything he was hearing, but he hoped that Justin would at least remember what had been said and hold it in his heart, so that maybe some day in the future when he was ready, he would be able to truly believe every word. 

“Good.” Clay stated with a nod of his own, moving back to sit next to his brother, still keeping a hold of one of those skinny arms – both out of comfort and an unexplainable need to keep Justin right there with him; right where he could keep an eye on him and keep him safe. 

“Could you – I’m uuh…” Justin faded off, biting on his bottom lip as he swiped his arm across his face, rubbing roughly at the tracks left by the tears. “I don’t want to tell anyone about … all that.” He finished in a whisper. 

“You don’t have to.” Clay assured. Ideally, of course it would be best for Justin to speak with a professional who would actually be able to help him, but the younger boy had trust issues as wide as the moon and just trusting Clay with all of that was a ton of fucking progress, so the older teen wasn’t about to go pushing for more – besides, it would be hypocritical as fuck for him try and force Justin to open up to anyone he didn’t want to, including a therapist and Clay’s parents. 

Justin nodded, a little more confidently this time, visibly relaxing at the news. 

“I won’t tell anyone.” Clay vowed quietly. 

Justin nodded once more, this time with complete certainty. “I know.” He replied, his lips twitching up in something that was far from a smile but helped him look a bit less fractured. 

“What, umm – what should I tell your dad?” Justin asked, running a hand through his hair. 

“Whatever you want.” Clay said with a shrug. “You don’t have to tell him anything if you don’t want to.” 

Matt Jensen was one of the most understanding people on the planet and though he was bound to be incredibly concerned about the younger boy, Clay knew that his father would demand anything Justin wasn’t able to give. 

“I have to explain, I need him to know it was an accident. I need him to know I would never do that to him.” Justin announced, gaze wide and insistent, as though Clay still needed – or had ever needed -- any convincing. 

“I know that. And he knows that. But if you need to tell him, then tell him.” Clay commented, wanting to alleviate any pressure.

Justin nodded, still chewing on his bottom lip as he appeared to be considering his options. Eventually, the teen heaved a long sigh, and pushed himself up off the ground. Clay stood with him, maintaining a hold on the skinny forearm as he followed Justin to the entrance to their little living space. The younger boy stalled after reaching for the doorknob, and glanced over at Clay. 

“You don’t have to come.” He said. 

“I know. But I want to. That’s what we do, right? We protect each other.” Because Clay wasn’t worried in the least about his father ever bringing any harm to Justin, but he could tell by the tremble running through the thin frame, that that was exactly what Justin was afraid of. And Clay would protect him from everything, even his own fears. 

“You’re going to protect me from your dad?” Justin queried, and eyebrows raised in amusement. 

Clay nodded without a moment of hesitation. “Yeah. I mean, I won’t need to, because they would never hurt you; but if they ever tried, I wouldn’t let them. I’m your big brother – well, I will be soon – and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. I’m always going to have your back.” Clay hadn’t intended to make such a deep and honest declaration, but sometimes there were things that just needed to be made clear, and the fact that Clay was always going to look out for Justin no matter what – well that was one of those things. 

“Thanks.” The younger teen croaked, sounding both shocked and grateful. “I have your back too, you know. I always will.” He added, the comment sounding like a vow with the force and confidence in which it was spoken. 

Clay nodded in reply, because, he did know that – had for awhile now. 

Clay and Justin entered the house and as they made their way towards the light and the hushed voices coming from the kitchen, Clay watched Justin position himself fully in front of him, the tremors in his limbs still present even as he stood taller, covering more of the older boy - and in that moment he knew that he couldn’t have a better person in his corner. 

There was no one who he would rather have looking out for him than the broken boy who had taken the risk to trust him. 

The shattered child who shoved his own hurt aside to always be there whenever the older kid needed him. 

The terrified teenager who planted himself in front of Clay even when his own fear left him trembling.

The struggling survivor who saved the older teen from everything, including himself.

The two boys were already brothers in every way that mattered. 

They had each other’s backs. 

And they always would. 

No matter what.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m sure he’s okay now.” 

“You didn’t see his face, Lainie, he was terrified.” 

“He had a nightmare.” 

“I know, but even after he woke, he was so scared. He couldn’t get far enough away from me.” Matt rasped, never in his life having felt so defeated then the moment he watched his soon-to-be child cower away from him in fear. 

“It wasn’t you he was afraid of, Matt.” Lainie declared, rubbing her hand comfortingly up and down the arm he had resting on the kitchen table. 

He clenched his jaw and shook his head, because though he was fairly certain that he was not the reason for Justin’s nightmare, _he_ was the person that the kid shied away from. 

“Even after he knew it was me – he couldn’t stop apologizing.” 

“He was sorry for hitting you, that’s all.” His wife insisted, as she gently swiped a finger beneath his nose – likely cleaning off some drying blood.

“He was, but it was more than that. He was scared of my reaction, like he thought I was going to hit him back or something.” Matt recalled, his stomach twisting at the mere idea of hurting that child. 

Lainie fell quiet for a moment, before speaking softly. “We both saw his file, Matt, we know that’s the kind of treatment he’s used to.” 

Matt nodded, blinking away tears as he thought of everything he had seen in the blue folder that had Justin’s name on it. One of the social workers had disclosed the folder to them because she was a friend of Lainie and when she had heard about their struggles with the troubled teen she had wanted them to truly understand what they were dealing with, or – more accurately – what Justin was dealing with. The couple had sat down together to read through the file, knowing full-well that Justin had experienced a difficult childhood, but neither of them had been remotely prepared for the horrors that boy had lived through. There wasn’t much specific information beyond obvious proof of several instances involving neglect and physical abuse, but both Matt and Lainie had been able to read in between the lines and had both gained a firmer understanding of the kind of life their son’s best friend had lived. And heaven knew that there were a great deal more terrible instances that had certainly never been documented. 

Not that the Jensens had really required a file to know that Justin had been the victim of violence, in fact, that reality had been the very first thing Matt had learned about the young teen. The terror the child had displayed when discovered by the older man in his son’s bedroom, that had been the first clue. Since that time there had been a great deal of flinching and flashes of fear across the young face that supported the couple’s theory of Justin having suffered through a history full of mistreatment of one degree or another. 

“Everything he has been through; can you imagine what kind of horrors have to be playing out in his head to make him react like that?” Matt croaked. 

“I don’t even want to think about it.” Lainie whispered, leaning in from where she sat and pressing a kiss against her husband’s cheek. 

“Me neither. I just can’t get it out of my head.” He admitted, grinding the palm of his hand into his temple. 

“He’ll be alright, sweetheart, we’ll make sure of it.” She vowed, Matt nodding his head in full-agreement. 

He had thought at first that Justin was too much for them to handle – or rather, they weren’t enough for him. He had been wary of having a teenager he didn’t know and couldn’t begin to understand, living under his roof with his family – not because he’d feared the boy at all, but because he had feared failing him. Hell, he and Lainie hadn’t even known how to help the one child they had after he had lost his friend, it seemed like they were setting every one up for failure by adding another troubled youth to the mix. It certainly didn’t help that there had often seemed to be conflict between the two teenagers in the house. Needless to say, Matt had once dealt with some serious doubts that Justin staying with them was what was best for anybody. 

And then one day that had all changed. 

As Matt sat at the kitchen table waiting for his face to stop throbbing, he thought back to the moment his mindset had been altered.

_It had been late one night, some awful hour of the morning, and Matt had woken to the sound of raised voices, one of which he immediately recognized as Clay’s. He had quietly slid from the bed and made his way towards the kitchen where all the noise was coming from, feeling irritated that the two teens could be so incredibly inconsiderate – as both he and his wife had work in just a matter of hours. The sound of smashing glass had hurried Matt’s steps and had him rushing into the kitchen. He marched into the room, less than impressed at the sight of what looked like a glass cereal bowl shattered on the floor and the two boys still arguing with each other – neither one of them making a move to clean the mess._

_In order to gain the attention of the room and put an end to the chaos, Matt had spoken one low but very firm demand._

_“Enough!”_

_That had been all it took to bring silence and attract two sets of eyes._

_That one word was also all that it took to send a violent flinch through Justin’s skinny little frame and ignite fear in that piercing blue gaze._

_Matt had been ready to deliver a lecture about common courtesy and respect and keeping sensible hours, but the terror on that teenager’s face had wiped the words from the older man’s tongue, stolen the air from his lungs, and had caused his frustration to evaporate entirely._

_“Boys.” He stated softer, his hands out in a way he hoped appeared non-threatening._

_“Sorry, Dad we didn’t mean to wake you.” Clay mumbled, stepping forward. His son had been looking down at the floor as he moved, likely to avoid stepping on shards of glass with his sock-clad feet, but he quickly looked up as Justin’s arm flew out to press against his chest. Clay frowned, glancing at the teen next to him and then over at his dad with raised eyebrows._

_Matt sent his son a slight nod, to indicate that he had also realized something was going on, before his gaze shifted to the trembling child._

_“Justin.” He spoke softly._

_“It’s my fault, Mr. Jensen.” The younger boy declared, his chin lifted even as his voice cracked in an obvious display of rising anxiety._

_“I heard you two arguing down here—_

_Matt had intended to go on and explain that the two teenagers hadn’t committed any egregious crime, they just needn’t to keep it down a bit, and there was no one to blame, but Justin cut him off before he could get to any of those points._

_“It was me. It was my fault.” He stated adamantly, stepping to the side – fully in front of Clay – without even looking down to try and avoid the glass littered across the kitchen floor._

_“Justin.” Clay grunted, as he tried to maneuver around his friend but was stopped as long bony fingers locked around his wrist and kept him in place._

_“I started the argument and I broke the bowl.” Justin continued, keeping Clay behind him as he shifted to plant himself more firmly in front of the older teen._

_Matt cringed at the sound of glass crunching beneath bare feet, and instinctively moved forward to protect the boy from harm, but he froze in place as he saw panic flare in those blue eyes and Justin pressed Clay back another couple of steps._

_“It was my fault. Clay did nothing wrong.” The frightened young man insisted._

_Matt watched as Justin stood protectively in front of Clay. The boy was shaking like a leaf in a tornado, but his arms were unyielding as they kept the older teenager behind him, and his stance was unwavering as he stood with his chin-up in front of Clay. He stared steadily at the older man, even though his gaze was bright with terror. Justin was obviously, visibly **terrified** – but he was choosing to protect Matt’s son. The kid clearly thought the consequence would be harsh and physical, and was willing to take a beating in order to keep Clay safe. _

_It was at that moment that Matt realized Justin was no longer just some child who needed a place to stay or a rebellious teenager who needed to be supervised – he was a boy Matt would do anything to protect, and the newest member to the small family._

_The older man opened and closed his mouth, trying to figure out what to say to make the frightened kid feel safe – what to do to get Justin to relax and stand-down and get the fuck away from the glass. He watched as Clay gently placed his hand on Justin’s back, and leaned forward into him._

_“Justin. It’s okay. It’s just my dad, he’s not going to hurt us.” The older teen whispered, with a voice softer than Matt had ever heard come from his son._

_Justin instantly shook his head from one side to the other as he pressed back against Clay, who huffed as he was forced to shuffle back another step._

_Matt cursed internally as he glanced down to the bare feet he knew had to be cut-up from the glass._

_“It’s okay, Justin. You boys didn’t do anything wrong; I just came down here to tell you two to keep it down. That’s all.” Matt assured, his tone level and calm as he made a conscious effort not to move any closer._

_He could see the disbelief clear as day on the young face as Justin remained planted firmly in front of Clay, his thin frame still trembling as his breath could be heard rushing too quickly in and out of his lungs._

_Matt wished death and destruction on every monster who had placed that spark of fear in those blue eyes, every bastard who was behind the shaking of that skinny frame, every piece of shit who had made it impossible for the boy to trust a word out of the older man’s mouth, every sonuvabitch who had caused harm to the gentle soul – how dare any of those fuckers do that to his boy._

_Matt restrained from clenching his fists, shoving his anger towards all those abusive assholes aside as he focussed his energy on helping the frightened teen._

_“I’m not angry, Justin. No one is in trouble.” Matt assured._

_Justin’s only response was his skeptical expression, and the tight grip he maintained on Clay’s wrist as the older boy fidgeted as his back._

_Matt sighed softly, not having a clue what else to do or say to make Justin understand that he was safe – and he always would be if Matt had anything to say about it, which he damn well did._

_“C’mon, Justin. I’m safe, okay? And so are you. So just relax, alright?” Clay prompted, somehow sounding equal parts exasperated teenager and worried big brother – both of which suited him surprisingly well._

_“Justin, son, it’s okay. I’m not going to yell or punish either of you – but I would like to take a look at your feet, if you’ll let me.” Matt requested calmly._

_He watched as confusion filtered across Justin’s expression, as Clay glanced down at the mentioned appendages._

_“Shit. Justin, you’re bleeding all over the fucking floor. Sit the fuck down.” The older teen ordered, sounding frustrated, but Matt was able to hear the concern hidden within the tone._

_Justin frowned down at himself, clearly having neglected to notice the physical pain amidst the mental terror. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, lifting up one foot and then the other, staring at them in a completely detached fashion._

_“You’re a fucking moron.” Clay growled with a shake of his head and roll of his eyes, as he wrapped his hands around Justin’s upper arms and steered the teen forward, pushing him down in one of the chairs around the kitchen table and pulling another one close. Clay wasted no time in stooping down to scoop Justin’s ankles and drop his feet up onto the empty seat; Justin immediately began to pull them away, but the older teen held his ankles in place._

_“I’m going to get blood on the chair.” Justin croaked._

_“It’s fine, chairs can be cleaned. Stop being an idiot and stay the fuck still.”_

_“Clay.” Matt chastised softly, his son simply rolled his eyes._

_“My dad is going to take a look at your feet, make sure there’s no glass that needs to be plucked out of them.” Clay announced, though this time he leaned down next to Justin and actually waited for the younger teen to nod his consent before he turned to Matt and gestured for him to approach._

_The older man moved slowly, keeping his palms up in a way he hoped was casually non-threatening. He tried not to be bothered by the way the boy flinched upon his approach, taking reassurance in the fact that the teen didn’t try to back up. Matt sat in the chair, gently lifting Justin’s feet and placing them on his lap. He wanted to grab hold of them when Justin pulled away, but didn’t allow himself to do so, not wanting to restrict the younger man in anyway._

_“Justin, my dad needs to look at your fucking feet.” Clay snapped, taking it upon himself to snag those two ankles and place the bare feet back down on Matt’s lap._

_“I’m going to get blood on him.” Just whispered, staring up at the other two._

_“I don’t mind.”_

_“He doesn’t give a shit.”_

_Both Jensens responded in unison._

_Justin huffed, but no longer attempted to pull away. Matt lifted Justin’s left foot, his touch feather-light as he traced one bloody scratch, making sure it wasn’t too deep and there was no glass in it, before switching to the right. He frowned at the amount of blood and the sight of a shard of glass protruding from the skin. When a damp cloth appeared in front of his face, he looked up at his son who was standing next to the pair, an anxious crease between his eyebrows – just like his mother always got when she was worried._

_Matt took the cloth and wiped away the smear of blood on the left foot, but frowned as he moved to the right._

_“Clay, could you grab me the tweezers from the bathroom cabinet, and a couple bandages?”_

_Matt knew he had said something wrong the moment he felt tension fill the teen in front of him. Justin’s eyes were wide with panic that he looked like he was trying hard to restrain. Matt realized that the Justin probably thought the older man was just waiting to get him alone so he could pound some discipline into him. Matt swallowed a sigh, wishing more than anything he could find a way to make the broken boy feel **safe** – there was nothing he wouldn’t do to make the kid understand he didn’t have to be afraid anymore, or ever again, because Matt would do anything to protect him and he sure as shit wasn’t going to hurt him. _

_But he knew there were no magic words, teaching Justin to trust him was going to take a great deal of time and patience._

_He looked up at his son, not surprised to see that the teen hadn’t moved so much as an inch and instead was staring down expectantly at his father. Clay had obviously seen the mistake in the question and was waiting for his dad to realize where he had gone wrong._

_Matt twitched a knowing smirk at his son as he amended his request. “Actually, Clay could you takeover here and get these cuts clean while I go track down the bandages.”_

_“Sure.” Clay stated simply, switching positions with his father._

_Matt did not fail to notice how rapidly Justin relaxed now that he wasn’t going to be left on his own with the person her perceived to be a possible threat – and damn if Matt couldn’t wait for the day he was no longer a member of that category._

_Matt had walked away, but before leaving the room had glanced over his shoulder to see the two boys huddled together, Clay speak softly to the younger teen who had just finally stopped looking like a wounded animal being cornered by its prey – and just like that the older man didn’t have it in him to be bitter about his less than ideal position in Justin’s life._

_He was simply glad that those two boys had found each other – that **his** two boys had found each other. _

_Because he could see clear as day that they needed one another more than anyone else._

_And maybe eventually they would let other people in, but until then, they had each other – and obviously, that was enough._

The memory began to fade, as Matt looked up and watched his two boys entering the kitchen. 

Justin was planted firmly in front of Clay, because somethings never changed no matter how much time passed by, as the teens made their way into the space. Clay attempted to move closer, but Justin snagged his wrist and kept him at his back – where it was _safe_ , Matt’s heart clenching at the sight of the frightened, anxious, wary boy still doing all he could to protect his best friend, his big brother. 

Clay grumbled an annoyed sound, but Matt recognized a shine of fondness in his eyes, the same one that he could see in Lainie’s and knew was likely in his own. Every one of them had a soft spot for the battered soul that had waltzed into their lives years ago. 

“Mr. Jensen—

“It’s still Matt, Justin.” The older man responded steadily as he me that bright nervous gaze. 

Justin chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, before giving a slight nod. “I’m sorry, Matt.” He announced, his voice earnest and raw, and still tinged with an edge of fear. 

Matt shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for, son.” He declared. 

It was Justin’s turn to shake his head. “I hit you.” He croaked in a timid whisper, as though the admission in itself would bring him harm. 

Matt felt Lainie squeeze his hand, and barrowed strength from the comforting gesture, because he was finding it hard as hell to not just march across the room and pull the terrified child into his arms; he was finding it hard to be patient the way he needed to be in order to earn Justin’s trust. It had been years of patience and even still he knew the abused teenager did not trust him completely, but progress had certainly been made. Justin no longer feared being alone in the room with him on an average day, and on occasion Matt was able to initiate fatherly comforting contact that didn’t result in the young boy flinching away. Progress had been slow but steady and Matt would be damned if he’d let them take any steps back because he rushed anything along.

“You did.” Matt acknowledge, trying not to crumble at the way the thin frame bowed, as if bracing for the hit. “But it’s okay, Justin.” He added softly.

“It’s not.” The teenager spat, his gaze returning to Matt’s, his face scrunched in what looked like anger. 

The older man sighed softly as he stared across the space at one of the two stubborn teenagers he called his own, trying to figure out what to say to get through to him. 

Lainie cleared her throat, attracting her husband’s attention, they had a brief moment of silent communication before she stood from the table. 

“Clay, come help me collect some things from the laundry room.” She instructed quietly. 

Matt watched as his oldest son looked to his youngest, waiting for the go-ahead – and he was certain that if Justin didn’t give it there was nothing on earth that could move Clay so much as an inch away from his brother’s side. It took a moment, but eventually Justin gave a slight nod, releasing his hold on the older boy’s wrist, though he did so reluctantly. 

“I’ll just be right down the hall.” Clay spoke softly, only to Justin, as he placed a gentle hand on the slim back. 

“Kay.” Justin rasped, visibly fighting his nerves as he gave another shaky nod. 

Clay followed his mother from the room, but glanced back at his father before leaving, levelling him with a look that Matt could only interpret as ‘don’t fuck this up’. He nodded back at his son, silently vowing to do his best, before the two were left alone in the kitchen. Justin was still standing near the wall, fidgeting non-stop, chewing on his bottom lip, and staring down at his feet. Matt gently nudged the chair Lainie had vacated with his foot, nodding down at it when Justin looked over. The younger boy seemed to give it some thought, before sighing and dropping down into the seat, but not before moving it further from the table – further from Matt. 

They sat quietly for a few moments, Matt gathering his thoughts as he watched Justin anxiously twisting his fingers. 

“You did nothing wrong.” The statement was soft but sure, and was met with nothing but a derisive snort. Yeah, Matt didn’t figure it would be that easy. “I came into your space – I was looking for my laptop charger, Clay keeps taking it – and I saw that you were having a bad dream.”

Justin ducked his head, shame colouring his cheeks – Matt clenched his jaw, because that just wasn’t right.

“I wanted to wake you, but I shouldn’t have touched you.” 

“You didn’t—

“I had not right to touch you.” Matt asserted. “Nobody does.” He added softly after a moment of the two staring at one another. He watched as an array of emotions filtered across that pale face, embarrassment, surprise, irritation, and lastly grateful relief. 

“You weren’t going to hurt me.” Justin stated. Matt was thankful that at least it wasn’t a question, but it didn’t escape him how it sounded like the teenager was trying to convince himself to believe the words he had spoken. 

“Never.” Matt asserted, relieved when he watched Justin nod in response, appearing to absorb the declaration. 

“But I hurt you.” The kid rasped. 

Matt shook his head.

“I did!” Justin snapped. 

Matt made sure to keep his response low and level, not wanting to escalate anything – not wanting to come off as a threat, again. “You were upset from your dream and you thought you were going to be hurt. You were defending yourself, and that is something I will never have a problem with, Justin.” 

The teenager’s eyes were wide and still quite wary, but the slim frame was beginning to relax and the restless movement had come to an end. “Even if it means you getting clocked in the face?” He queried, a slight smirk on his lips. 

Matt twitched a grin of his own, but nodded earnestly. “Even then.” 

The amusement faded from Justin’s face, trading in for confusion and surprise. Matt prayed that some day the young boy would stop reacting in that way to having people care about him, and put him first; because that was the child’s new reality, Matt would make certain of it. 

“I wasn’t afraid of you, you know.” Justin mentioned. 

Matt pressed his lips together, because he knew that statement was only half-true and he was trying to decide whether to point that out or let it float by. 

“I really wasn’t.” Justin insisted, clearly sensing the hesitation. “I would never hurt you, or Lainie, or Clay—

“I know, son, I know.” Matt placated, alarmed by how panicked the teen was becoming. He reached across, intending to grasp that boney shoulder, but he stalled and instead left his hand resting on the table closer to the anxious boy. He didn’t know if it was okay to touch and he didn’t want to pressure the kid. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I know you would never ever hurt Lainie – and I sure as hell know you would never hurt Clay.” Matt confirmed, a fond smile pulling at his lips. 

Justin sighed, visibly relieved.

“I do know that it wasn’t me you were swinging at … but I also know that when you knew it was me, you were still quite frightened.” Matt pointed out in a hushed voice, not wanting to be accusatory, but needing to be honest. 

Justin frowned, his gaze falling to the table top where he had placed his hands less than a quarter-inch away from Matt’s. 

“And that’s okay.” Matt insisted, no liking the shame he saw colouring the narrow face. “It’s okay that you were scared of me, or the reaction you thought I might have, that’s okay and I understand.” Well, he understood as much as he was able, enough to know that Justin’s fear came form a history of mistreatment and had little to do with Matt at all. 

Justin was staring over at the older man eyes wide and bright – maybe even a bit misty, which struck Matt hard. How many times had anyone tried to understand the younger boy? How many times had anyone ever responded to him with patience and consideration? Matt wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to those questions. 

“It’s okay that you were scared. I just want you to know that you never have to be, Justin, not of me.” Matt implored softy, leaning a bit closer to the slim frame. “Just like you said you would never intentionally hurt me – I would never hurt you. Okay?” 

Matt waited patiently as Justin was taking his time to respond, as he often did. Matt had noticed that to be a difference between his two boys, Clay always had a reply on the tip of his tongue before his parents had even finished speaking, but Justin appeared to spend more time thinking things through before forming a response. 

“I think – I think my head knows that.” Justin responded carefully. “It just might take some time for the rest of me to catch-up.” He added, head bowed as he practically whispered.

Matt nodded, accepting the information as he slowly – being sure that the teenager saw the movement – shifted his hand until he was lightly grasping one of those narrow wrists. “And that’s okay.” He assured, ducking a bit to find those alarmingly blue eyes. 

Justin looked up just enough for his gaze to meet the older man’s, he looked like he was searching – searching for honesty, searching for the truth, searching to see if the words could be trusted. Matt waited, staring steadily, allowing the teenager the time he needed to find what he was looking for. 

After what felt like minutes, Justin finally nodded, the motion more confident than it had been before, like he actually believed what he was being told. 

Matt breathed a soft sigh of relief, glad that the two had made it over that particular hurdle unscathed – and while he was tempted to cut his losses and take the win, he decided to try his luck and attempt one more obstacle. 

“I don’t know what you were dreaming about…” Matt faded off, momentarily deterred by the tension that returned to the long body, but he forced himself to power through, to just get the words out. “But I could tell that it was terrible.” That was probably putting things mildly, but Matt didn’t know a way to put it that wouldn’t be a little too telling. 

Justin’s jaw was clenched, but he was still sitting there, and had yet to pull his arm from Matt’s grip, so that was something. 

“And I’m not going to ask you to talk about it.” The still limbs seemed to loosen a bit at that declaration, giving Matt the encouragement he needed to continue. “I just want you to know that if you do ever want to talk about it – about what happens in your dreams or anything else…” 

Matt paused, waiting for that gaze to lift once more and meet him, when it did it was timid and anxious, but there was a hint of trust shining through those bright blue orbs as well. 

“I want you to know that we can find someone for you to speak with. Or, if you want, I’m here – and I’m always going to be here, and so will Lainie, and Clay.” 

Justin’s eyes were filled with moisture, and he opened his mouth a time or two, but not a sound came out. Matt’s heart clenched violently in his chest as he watched the hurting teen give a helpless shake of his head, a single tear trailing down the young face, before he hid it in his hands. 

Matt felt his own eyes fill, his chest tight and throat clogged as he watched the broken boy curl into himself, appearing smaller than anyone of his age had any right to look. The older man got to his feet and placed a gentle hand on the slim back, satisfied when there was no flinch in response to the touch, as he comfortingly rubbed back and forth. 

“When you’re ready, son. When you’re ready.” He whispered hoarsely, feeling his own tears slipping free as he bent down and placed a chaste kiss into the soft brown hair. 

Justin quickly stood from the chair, Matt startled, realizing he must have crossed a line, but before the apology left his lips there was a skinny boy pressed against his chest. 

It took the older man just a second to get over the shock and respond to the hug. He wrapped his arm around the slender form, returning the pressure he could feel being applied to his own midsection. He could hear the teen sniffling a quiet ‘thank you’ into his chest, his insides aching with a desperate need to protect the wounded kid in his arms. He slid his hand up onto the back of Justin’s head, tucking him in closer, doing everything he could physically to make him feel _safe._

Because that’s what parents were supposed to do – they were supposed to make their kids feel loved and important and _safe_. 

And for the rest of his life, that is exactly what Matt would do for his boys. 

Both of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> So, this happened tonight. I've messed up some vertebrae in my back, ergo it took me forever to type this up, but hopefully it isn't complete rubbish. Thanks for reading! And please leave a comment/review if you have a spare moment! - Sam


End file.
